Days Gone By
by aFallensrequiem
Summary: How do you go on living when all the world's gone to hell? How do you get by each day when you know all has been lost? Laura could barely ask herself these questions, let alone think of the answers. This story follows the TV show and main Atlanta crew, with an added character of my own - Laura. Mature themes, drama/horror/romance.
1. Trying to Get Home

**Hey guys! It's been years since I've written anything for this site, but I've recently felt the call. I'm a huge fan of The Walking Dead TV series (including all things zombie), and felt the need to arrange some of my thoughts into a story within the Walking Dead universe. I'd like to share my story with you all, and hopefully you enjoy it. It's been great getting back into the writing scene and getting this much out already. Let me know what you think, and I hope to have more soon.**

* * *

Laura grimaced and subtly shifted to the right in her seat a few inches, as the man sitting directly to her left hacked into the hand that was loosely cupped over his mouth for what seemed like the thousandth time. He noisily blew his nose into a wadded and already heavily used tissue he produced from his jacket pocket, before shoving it back in and turning to look at Laura with an apologetic look on his blotchy face.

"This cold is a killer!" he said nasally and with a faint smile. Laura forced a polite smile then hastily shifted one seat over as soon as the man turned away to talk with the woman on the other side of him. His wife or girlfriend, maybe. She didn't seem as perturbed by his constant spewing of mucous and other bodily disruptions as Laura and a few other people nearby did, evidenced by shared looks of distaste and annoyance. Laura glanced at the time on her cell phone for what seemed like the tenth time in the past five minutes and sighed in frustration, brushing a lock of honey blonde hair out of her eyes. She wrapped her dove grey cardigan tighter around her, and slid down in her seat slightly to get more comfortable.

Laura was sitting in the airport near downtown Atlanta waiting for her connecting flight home to DC to start boarding. The problem was that she had been waiting for her plane to board now for over almost three hours. Multiple delays had been announced by the bored looking airline employee at the counter ever since boarding was normally supposed to begin. As the delays increased, so did the activity near the main counter. Various airline employees hurried to and from the counter, turning the expression of the initial employee from boredom to tense concentration. Laura barely took notice of this, however. A migraine had been steadily growing behind her right eye as the wait progressed, and she had been trying to keep her mood relaxed and tension level low. So much for that actually happening, though.

"I should've just driven," she muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose tightly with her thumb and forefinger. A woman across the room started coughing wetly into the crook of her arm, causing Laura to again wrinkle her nose in disgust. One thing she had taken notice of during her wait were the number of people who seemed to be suffering from late spring allergies or warm weather colds. Not too unusual for April. Taking a quick assessment, she easily counted fifteen out of the roughly fifty people waiting for the same flight, with some sort of visible symptom: coughing, sneezing, or nose blowing.

The local news back in Houston had had some "on the hour" reports about this rash of colds, allergies, whatever you wanted to call it. They had recommended regular hand washing and to always cover your mouth when coughing and sneezing. The usual precautions one would hear from your mother every day. There had been a few stories from some overzealous reporters about how the influx of patients to hospitals in neighbouring states were "highly unusual" among other things. But Laura never paid those kinds of stories much credit. They were just done to cause unnecessary hype and have everyone and their third cousin freaking out over every little sniffle.

Laura was just glad she wasn't prone to allergies and rarely got sick. She had gone down to Houston for her friend's wedding, and it would have been a miserable trip, had she been sick. A couple of the guests had complained of their allergies acting up and at least one claimed he suspected he was coming down with "something."

Thinking about the wedding made her check her phone again. Not for the time, but to see if she had gotten any calls or texts. She had called her fiancé, Jack, as soon as she landed in Atlanta nearly six hours ago, but had yet to hear from him. Laura didn't think too much of it, but couldn't help being annoyed. Jack had stayed behind in DC instead of going with her to Houston because he was an attorney and had a big trial to prepare for. She had tried to convince him that he could get some work done on the plane and once there, telling him that she didn't want to go stag to a friend's wedding, whom she had told so much about Jack. But he wouldn't budge, complaining too that he had a sore throat and didn't want to risk aggravating his health by traveling, especially right before such a big trial. Laura twisted her engagement ring, a large two carat solitaire, around on her finger distractedly as she thought about Jack and wished again he were there with her. At least it would've made this wait go by a little faster.

"Attention customers of Flight 96 to Washington DC," came the sudden voice of the formerly-bored-now-concerned looking airline employee at the main desk. Everyone swiveled their heads towards the source of the sound, expectant and hopeful looks on most faces. Laura readjusted herself for a better view of the employee, and her heart sank when she saw the look on the woman's face. This wasn't going to the good news everyone was waiting for. "I regret to inform you that the flight has been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. We apologize for any and all inconveniences. If you would form a line at the counter, we will hand out hotel vouchers-" The rest of what she was saying was lost as there was a loud collective groan from the crowd.

"You have GOT to be shitting me," Laura said fiercely as she roughly began collecting her purse and suitcase. Luckily she had all of her belongings in a carry-on case, since her trip had only been for two days and she didn't have much with her. She figured it should be enough for one more day or so away from home. Laura glanced at the line forming now in front of various airline employees, who looked like they were having a hell of a time trying to calm people down, and shook her head curtly, deciding she didn't want to try and brave the line and other angry people. She turned on her heel, away from the line, and started walking towards the main exit, flipping her phone open in the process. Laura expertly dialed Jack's number and put the phone to her ear. It rang a few times with no success. Again her call went to his voicemail.

"Hey babe, just wanted to let you know that the airline cancelled my flight. It's late so I'm going to find a hotel and probably rent a car in the morning. I'm not dealing with these flights anymore. But anyway, I hope you're doing ok. Don't work too hard! I love you, and I'll see you soon." Laura hung up and slipped the phone into her back jeans pocket as she briskly walked down the packed main hallway, wishing desperately she could hear Jack's voice. As she walked fast, trying to avoid people, she couldn't help but overhear a couple of employees talking in worried tones. What she heard made her furrow her eyebrows together in concern, but she still didn't slow, determined to get the hell out of the airport as fast as possible.

"I heard that they just found the guy slumped over the main controls; his copilot right next to him, too. No way that flight was going anywhere after that."

* * *

"Thanks again," Laura said, speaking to the cab driver through the passenger side window before he drove away. She grabbed the handle of her carry-on case, readjusted her purse on her shoulder, and started towards the hotel front door behind her. By the time she had managed to hail a taxi at the airport entrance and suffer through an agonizingly long and traffic filled drive into downtown Atlanta, which was only ten miles from the airport, the sun had dipped below the horizon and her cell phone told her it was just after eight o'clock. The grumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't had anything to eat since her flight from Houston nearly eight hours ago now.

Laura brushed past a few people coming out of the hotel, and quickly thanked the man who stopped to hold the door for her. She took a moment to adjust to her surrounding and seek out the main desk, before making a beeline straight for it. The hotel she had requested her taxi take her to was rated a modest three stars on the site she had scoured while waiting for said taxi to arrive. It boasted of the typical hotel amenities: high speed internet and a warm continental breakfast. But all she was really concerned about was a warm bed and hot shower. She didn't plan to stay longer than a couple hours of sleep, and only needed a place to crash that was close to a car rental site. This one happened to be right down the block from one, and so she had called ahead once in her taxi and made the reservation.

"Hi there, checking in?" a young woman who stood behind the desk asked brightly in a thick Southern accent as Laura approached. The woman's eyes were a bit too wide and her smile a bit too big, making her pleasant tone seem disingenuous. Her name tag read "Brittany." Laura gave a flat smile.

"Yes, Laura Dern? I called not too long ago, actually," she replied, releasing her suitcase handle and placing her purse on the counter between her and the smiling woman. Brittany clattered away on the computer before her. Her long, painted red nails creating a cacophony of sound as she searched the hotel's database for Laura's reservation.

"Ah, here we are, Ms. Dern! Have you all set up in room 205. Here are your keys, and I hope you have a wonderful stay!" Brittany drawled. Laura determined Brittany seemed a bit too manic for her migraine-addled brain to handle, and hastily grabbed the keys off the counter along with the rest of her things. She muttered a quick thank you and headed straight for her room.

Room 205 was only one flight of stairs up from the lobby and around the corner. It was also blessedly cool and dim. A welcome reprieve from the uncomfortably warm Georgian weather outside and bright hotel lobby lights. Laura sighed with relief and locking the door behind her, she dropped her belongings onto one of the two queen sized beds in the room. Aside from the beds, there was a simple nightstand between them with a lamp and a short dresser before them with a TV resting on top.

Laura clicked on the TV for some background noise as she began removing her clothes, ready for a scalding hot shower. The TV defaulted to the news, where a worried reporter was speaking to a man sitting across the desk from him and wearing a white lab coat. As the camera focused in on the lab coat clad man, the banner that appeared below his face read "Dr. Bradson, CDC - Atlanta." Another stationary banner at the bottom of the screen simply read: "Epidemic in the US?"

"Right, John," Dr. Bradson was saying, speaking to the reporter. "We've received some alarming results from our recent testing and-"

"Nope," Laura said, clicking away from the News channel until she found some light-hearted romantic comedy she couldn't quite remember the name of. She wanted to relax; she didn't want to hear about the latest tragic current event. Satisfied with her channel choice, Laura walked into the bathroom and started the shower, testing the water with her hand until she was satisfied with that as well. She finished removing her clothing, dropping her jeans to the floor around her feet. Stepping out of them, she tossed her bra followed by her underwear down to the floor as well and pulled the clear shower curtain back. The hot water hit her body as she stepped in, and she sighed with relief. Laura closed her eyes as she dipped her head below the stream of water, and smoothed her long hair with both hands as the water turned it from a light honey colour to a deep amber on contact. Instantly her migraine seemed distant as the water beat a rhythmic pattern against her upturned face, the hot water soothing her internal aches and pains.

Laura finished her shower at a leisurely pace and almost reluctantly shut off the water. She wrapped a bright white hotel towel around herself and stepped out into the steamy bathroom towards the mirror mounted above the sink. Her green eyes stared back at her when she wiped a hand down the glass to clear away the condensation caused by the shower. They looked tired and worn. Too old to be the eyes of a 25 year old. But then again she didn't feel 25, so perhaps their perceived age made sense. As her mind began to reminisce on memories that might have been best to forget long ago, her migraine returned with a sudden, fierce vengeance. Laura gave a small cry at the sudden pain that flared up behind her right eye, and shut the bathroom light off quickly. The darkness in the bathroom helped a little, especially now that the only light in her hotel room emanated from the small nightstand lamp and TV.

With the migraine back, Laura quickly brushed out her hair and squeezed the water out of it one more time before twisting it into a long braid that hung over her shoulder nearly to her breast. She rummaged through her carry-on until she found what she was looking for: an oversized Boston Redsox t-shirt that belonged to her fiancé. Smiling faintly at the thought of Jack, she quickly donned it along with a pair of clean cotton underwear she pulled from the bag. Her phone and its charger were the last things she grabbed before flopping down on the second bed across the room. After plugging in the charger in an outlet behind the nightstand, Laura flipped open her phone.

No messages and no texts. The time read 9:03 pm.

"_Hey, how are you feeling?_" Laura texted Jack, her fingers deftly moving across the on-screen keyboard of her phone. Her eyebrows were furrowed together as she hit send on the message, and watched until it was completely sent. She was worried now. It had been a day since she had last heard from Jack; the night before, in fact. She had spoken to him briefly on the phone before going to bed in Houston. His voice had been hoarse and scratchy from what he claimed to now be a full-blown cold.

"See, you should've come with me so I could take care of you," Laura had said the night before as she lay in bed at her Texan hotel, the phone cradled against her ear with her right shoulder. Jack had chuckled in response, then fell into a fit of coughing.

"I just need you home with me," he said, his voice low. She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "I can think of a few things you could do that would make me all better." Laura smiled coyly at his words and unconsciously twisted a strand of hair around her finger as her mind went to where Jack was implying. She imagined how he probably looked right then. Short, black hair tousled and sticking up in places from him running his fingers through it as he thought. Dark blue eyes deepening in colour and becoming endless pools she often found herself lost in as they made love.

"I'll be home soon, I promise," she'd said softly, her heart aching that she couldn't be with him right that second. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Laura started and turned to the nightstand in Atlanta after a few minutes lost in thought and plugged her phone in to charge overnight. She checked one more time for any messages. Not seeing any still, Laura tried to push the worry from her mind and told herself that he must have been exceptionally busy today. The trial was tomorrow morning, and he probably spent the day with a buddy of his preparing the case. Telling herself to be reassured, she used the remote to set the TV on mute and turned off the nightstand lamp. Laura pulled the covers up over her body and sighed in contentment as her body sank into the mattress, her migraine easing just a bit.

As Laura drifted to sleep, the romantic comedy that had been playing silently on the TV disappeared and was instantaneously replaced by bands of different colours behind the simple, block-printed words "Emergency Broadcast System." A banner began running at the bottom of the screen. Words such as "evacuation" and "epidemic" scrolling quickly by. But Laura was ignorant to all of this, lost in sleep and unaware of anything besides her dreams.

Outside a single scream pierced the night.


	2. The Beginning (Please read AuthorsNote)

**See important note at bottom of page!**

My interest in continuing this story re-emerged with the new season of The Walking Dead starting up tomorrow evening. I really wanted to stick with it initially, but life gets so busy sometimes, it's hard to take the time to sit down and write.

Not 100% sure where I'm eventually going with this - originally I was interested in a Rick/OC pairing, but having just finished "Polar" by MarionArnold (thanks for your review, btw!), I'm almost inspired to go with Merle. Never considered that route until reading your story. Amazing - and totally recommend it!

Well, enough of my prattling. Here's chapter 2, hope you enjoy it!

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Laura's eyes snapped open and she was momentarily blind until her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness still occupying the room. She lay still in bed, breathing slowly, as she tried to identify what had caused her to wake. She turned her head slightly to look at the bedside clock and frowned when she noticed it repetitively blinking 12:00 in glaring, red letters, indicating it was no longer working properly. Laura sat up halfway in bed and realized the TV she had left on mute before falling asleep was dark. _Had there been a power surge in the night, knocking out the electronics?_

She leaned on her left forearm as she turned to the bedside nightstand and disconnected her cell phone from the charging cord. As she did so, the phone's screen lit up showing the battery was fully charged and the time was actually 1:16 am. No messages or texts. Phone in hand and growing more confused, Laura sat up fully in the bed, the white hotel sheet pooling around her hips. As she made a move to rise out of bed, a horrific scream stopped her dead with her right hand paused mid-air, causing her to unconsciously grip the sheet she held even tighter so that her knuckles turned white.

All of the blood drained from Laura's head and her eyes widened to resemble saucers by their size. The scream had come from the floor above her, maybe even the room directly above her own. It was not the suddenness or loudness of the scream that caused her blood to run cold, but it was the emotion behind it: sheer utter terror and pain. A large crash sounded again from above, shaking her room slightly. The crash was followed by smaller thuds that beat a rapid pattern into the floor for nearly fifteen seconds before ceasing completely. Laura barely had time to try and think of what could have caused that noise before another scream came from the floor below her accompanied by yelling and loud thumps against the walls. A sharp bang sounded below her - _a gunshot? _- which finally woke her from her temporary shock and spurred her into action.

Laura raced across the room towards her bag, her long legs reaching it in only two strides. As she struggled into the jeans she had worn the day before, her hands shaking badly, her ears began to pick up the sound of more screaming, yelling, and other horrific sounds now coming from all different parts of the hotel and even outside. She cursed under her breath as she tried to button her pants, but her fingers were tembling so badly she couldn't get the button through the hole. Finally it slipped through and quickly donned her shoes, as well. Laura felt a bit uncoordinated - wearing an over-sized t-shirt with jeans and her nice mules - but she barely acknowledged the feeling as she crept slowly towards the door and its peephole.

She slowly placed her hands on either side of the door frame and leaned forward, matching her right eye to the peephole in the door and squinting her left closed in order to see out into the hallway. Immediately two figures raced by and her mind only had a moment to register it had been a man and a women, both with wide eyes, the woman's mouth open as her scream followed their flight. Another man raced past Laura's view, only a few steps behind the couple. In his hand he held a piece of metal that caught the light as he ran past: a pistol.

_What was going on?_ Laura's mind raced as she took in the looks of terror of the people who ran by her door. A young woman clutching the hand of her child came into view. They stopped abruptly right before her door as the child's foot caught on the rumpled carpet and he skidded onto his stomach. The small boy appeared to be about five, and his voice cried out in surprise and hurt as his mother worked to bring him back to his feet. Her movements were frantic and Laura could see the tear stains down her cheeks even from her position behind the door. Suddenly the young mother's head whipped to her left and she screamed at whatever it was she saw. In one fluid motion, she roughly pulled her son to his feet and continued down the hallway, essentially carrying him along as she ran. Laura didn't have to wonder long about what it was that she saw because in that next moment, the source shambled into view.

The man wore a torn and filthy mechanic's jumpsuit, its dark blue colour turned a deep midnight in places by something staining it. The man stopped in front of Laura's door but still stared down the hall in the direction the mother and her child and run. He seemed unsure of himself and loitered in place, his feet shuffling as he turned in a small circle. When his face turned towards Laura, she threw herself backwards away from the door and brought her hands to her mouth a moment too late to stifle the scream that came out. The mechanic's lower jaw was completely missing, his tongue lolling grotesquely down his chest. Blood covered his face and neck, and it clicked in her head that it was also blood that stained his jumpsuit.

Laura stood a few feet away from the door, her hands still clasped over her mouth and she held her breath. She prayed that the man - that _thing_ - hadn't heard her and would keep moving. Her prayers went unanswered and she watched in growing terror the doorknob twist first one way then the other. Low groaning came from the other side of the door as the doorknob was tried again and again. Tears silently began to stream down Laura's face and she began to step backwards, putting more distance between her and the door. Suddenly there was a shout followed by an impressively loud bang and the doorknob instantly ceased to move. A man's voice swore vehemently right outside the door as another bang sounded and footsteps retreated down the hall. Then there was only silence.

Laura's legs were shaking so violently that another attempt at stepping further backwards into the room caused her to fall and land hard on her butt. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the door as her mind fought to comprehend what she had just seen. That man had obviously been dead, no one could survive an injury that traumatic, but he was moving around and walking as though he were alive. It was impossible. It was-

Bile surged up Laura's throat and she turned her head, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the carpeted floor. There wasn't much that came up; she hadn't eaten in awhile. She stayed hunched over on all fours for more than a minute, spitting every now and then in an effort to rid the acidic taste from her mouth. Finally Laura's stomach settled and she leaned back sitting heavily on the floor with her back leaning against the end of one of the beds.

Laura knew she had get out of the hotel, but so far the thought of even getting up off the floor made her panicky. _What on earth was happening?_ Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden and before she could stop herself, she began to sob. Laura's sobs racked her body and she held her face in her hands as she wept. _Was Jack ok? What about her parents? Her friends? _The tears eventually began to subside and left in their place sporadic hiccups.

Laura forced herself to take deep breaths to regain control of herself. _I have to be strong,_ she told herself silently. When her heart began to slow to its normal rhythms, she pulled herself to her feet, and pulled the t-shirt she was wearing up over her head. Laura stuffed the t-shirt into her small suitcase then rifled through it until she found a plain, white t-shirt that she knew fit her more tightly. She pulled it up over her head, realizing as she did that she had never put on a bra.

"Oh well," she muttered to herself, turning again to the suitcase. She was relatively small chested - a full B cup - so the lack of a bra would not affect her too greatly. Laura kicked off her mules and hurriedly dragged on an old pair of sneakers she pulled from the depths of the suitcase. If she was going to leave this room and face what lay outside, she wanted to be able to move easier and more surely. A baggy t-shirt with slip-on shoes would not cut it.

Shouts, yells, and screams continued from all around her as she jammed her purse into her suitcase, zipping it up fiercely. She slid her cell phone into her back pocket and glanced quickly around the room to ensure there was nothing she was about to leave behind. With her hand on the doorknob of the door leading out into the hallway, Laura peered through the peephole.

The activity in the hallway appeared to have quieted. No one raced by her door and the sounds she was hearing came from other sources than her floor. Laura waited a full minute to be sure she wouldn't be surprised by someone - _or something_ - when she opened the door before turning the doornob and stepping out into the hallway.

Not even two steps out the door, Laura stopped dead. The mechanic she had seen through the peephole earlier lay at her feet, his jawless face leering up at her from the floor. A neat bullet hole tunneling through his forehead. Laura felt the bile rising again in her throat, but she coughed once and forced her gaze away, reclaiming her senses quickly. She tightened her grip on her suitcase held against her chest and purposely edged past the body of the mechanic towards the stairwell at the end of the hall.

The mechanic was not the only body occupying the hallway. Others lay in crumpled heaps and Laura tried to avoid touching or looking at them as best as she could. Blood covered the walls; streaks created by hands and splatters by bullets and other trauma. The sight alone was almost overwhelming, but the smell that accompanied was enough to send her over the edge. Laura gagged and emptied the contents of her stomach for a second time, though all that remained was some bile and spit. She drew in a ragged breath as she wiped her arm across her mouth and continued down the hallway at a staggering run.

Laura reached the stairwell, stopped right before the top step, and peered down so that she could see a bit of the main lobby at the bottom. There was no movement and only one body lay in her field of view, a female hotel employee by her uniform sprawled halfway down the staircase. The woman was lying facedown, her head towards the bottom step, her arms outstretched as if she had tripped going down the stairs. Laura waited another few heartbeats before gathering her courage and taking her first step down the stairs. She stepped silently down each step, pressing herself to the wall as she went to pass the fallen woman. As Laura passed the woman, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and walked down the stairs a bit quicker. All of the sudden, Laura's suitcase flew from her arms as she windmilled and fell forward down the stairs to the lobby floor.

A low hissing sound crescendoed from behind her on the stair and Laura whipped around from her place sprawled out on the floor. The woman on the stair was stirring. Her head rose and Laura's breath caught in her throat. Like the mechanic the girl bore a traumatic wound that should keep her from ever moving again; yet, there she was, reaching hands towards Laura as she dragged herself slowly down the stairway. Dull, pale eyes watched Laura hungrily as the girl snapped and groaned - horrific, unearthly sounds that sounded alien coming from a human being. It wasn't the sight of the wound or surprise the woman was moving that froze Laura, it was the name on the nametag that glinted dully in the light: "Brittany."

Laura's legs scrabbled beneath her as she scrambled to her feet and her "fight or flight" response kicked in. She grabbed her suitcase and bolted for the front door of the hotel. Her mind overrun with fear as she burst into the early morning darkness.

A/N: So I realize this must draw some ire, but I am officially retiring this story for the time being and will delete it in a few days, once I feel those who have followed this story see this message. I decided I wasn't happy with the direction I was going with or how I started, so I'm beginning a new one. Since I'm currently posting this from my phone, I will have to post the new story later today, at the earliest.

Hope you can forgive me, and hope you like the new one I decided to work on, if you so choose to seek it out.

Thanks for the support thus far, though!


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